


One More Night

by Teh_FemaleMoriarty



Series: Maroon 5 ships Johnlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst?, Cheating, Finished, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, fluff?, he knows it's wrong but c'mon it's Sherlock, indulgence, songfic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teh_FemaleMoriarty/pseuds/Teh_FemaleMoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knew it was wrong, to be here like he was, WHERE he was. But he kept coming back to him, always coming back. And he didn't know why. He loved Mary, he truly did, but he has always been pulled to Sherlock. And only when he fell into Sherlock, did John understand exactly just how strong that pull was...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'We get so damn dysfunctional...'

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5

Dawn light peeked through the curtains as John woke up and stretched, a small grin on his face at the pleasant ache that he worked out by doing so. 'No need to tell Mary about /that/ dream.' He kept his eyes closed as he did, but then he opened them and the reality of last night hit him full force. 'Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!' he thought, bolting upright in bed. He wasn't at home, in his own bed, and the body next to him wasn't Mary's.

He looked around at the room and pulled his knees up to rest his elbows on them and his head in his hands. 'I'm so fucked!' He sighed and shook his head. He did the two things he promised himself he'd never do: Cheat on Mary, and sleep with Sherlock bloody Holmes. The fact that he'd done them both in one go tugged at his gut and made him feel guilty.

He rubbed his face and sighed again, letting it set in. Last night's lover stirred in the sheets beside John and he glanced over at him. Sherlock was propped up on one elbow, smiling triumphantly and striking a confident pose. He didn't have the bed sheets covering him like John did, making it very difficult to concentrate on what he wanted to say to the detective.

"Morning," Sherlock's baritone voice rumbled, low and dripping with lust. John blinked and swallowed thickly, remembering that voice from the previous night as it begged and murmured in his ear... 'No, don't think about it,'

"Why?" John asked bluntly. Sherlock grinned and the doctor's heart began to race. "Because you wanted to. Don't you remember?"

In fact, John did remember, though he was trying not to. It had been the first time in three months the doctor had visited Sherlock. Three months since the world's only consulting detective had risen from the dead, three months since John had told him to fuck off and never come back, three months since he regretted those words. They shouted and screamed and told Mrs. Hudson to go away politely. Then they fell into bed together. 'You and I get so damn dysfunctional. We shouldn't have done this,'

"Yes," John said putting his head back in his hands and sighing. "Yes, I remember." Sherlock shifted into a sitting position and scooted closer to John. "Good. That means," Sherlock's voice dropped impossibly lower and he slid a hand down John's leg towards his thighs. "You remember this?" John jumped up and picked up his pants from the wood floor. Sherlock smiled again, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

"I have to go. Mary's probably wondering why I didn't come home last night and why I didn't call and-"

"Dull," Sherlock remarked, rolling his eyes. John looked at the detective in disbelief. "Dull? My fiance is dull? My relationship, my faithfulness is /dull/ to you?" Sherlock grinned again, like he'd won something. "/You/ seemed to think so last night," he stated. John swallowed, shaking his head. "I have to go. I'm not doing this with you."

"You will. You'll come back again, and we'll shout and argue and then we'll have sex." John snorted. "You seem so confident in that."

"That's because I'm right. And you know it." John froze. He did. He knew, deep down, that this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be with Sherlock. And it only served to make matters worse right now.

The detective stood up and in front of John. "You know," he breathed. "That you'll come back. I'm /counting/ on it." The brunette looked at John one moment more before sitting back down on the bed with his head leaning on the headboard. "The rest of your clothes are in the den," he pointed out. John began to leave when Sherlock called him. He pointed to the dresser, where a carton of fags laid. "Please?"

The ex-army man scoffed and tossed him the smokes before leaving the room to collect his clothes, saying, "Yes, because lung cancer is 'dull' too". Sherlock smiled as he place one of the cigarettes between his lips. "And that's why he'll be back." he muttered, closing his eyes.

######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### #########

Sherlock was right. Not a week later, John was back, having been invited by Sherlock via text to help solve a case he was working. John had growled swears around the house all day when he received the text, only to be calmed by Mary, who told him to go. "Just, no more late night stake-outs. Okay?" That's what he'd told her, that he and Sherlock had been watching a warehouse all night last time and he'd forgotten to call.

But here he was again, getting pulled back towards Sherlock. He took in a deep breath at the front door, watching as the headlights of passing cars illuminated the gold numbers against the black-painted wood. With one more deep breath, he opened the door, headed up the seventeen steps and into the flat.

Sherlock was laying on the couch, hands folded in front of his gaunt face, eyes closed, and both sleeves rolled up on /that bloody purple shirt/! John cleared his throat, and the detective hummed in question. "You wanted to see me?" Sherlock smiled slightly, but kept his eyes closed and hands together. "Yes." The blonde waited. "So?" he asked finally. "So what?" the younger man responded. "So, what do you need?"  
"I /had needed/ you to give me some of your medical expertise on this case, but while you were possibly grumbling about it and very likely avoiding me, I asked Molly." John scowled and marched up to the couch. "You mean to tell me that you asked someone else and didn't bother to say so, making me come all this way here for nothing?"

Sherlock remained still, even though John was shouting now. "If it was nothing, you wouldn't be here." He finally opened his eyes and looked over at the doctor with a smirk. "Would you?" John tried to control his breathing, but wound up shouting, "You bloody bastard! I'm not getting into this with you!"  
"I'm not asking you to. You're doing this all on your own." John hated when Sherlock kept his voice even, knowing it made him angrier. "I'm not going to stay here and argue." he said. Sherlock tilted his chin towards the door. "Then what's stopping you?"

Sherlock knew he had the older man then. He knew why John hadn't left yet, and he knew that he would stay.

John growled and began heading for the door, making Sherlock furrow his brow. But the ex-army doctor only shut and locked it before marching back over and grabbing Sherlock by the collar. "You bloody bastard," he repeated, pulling the detective close and snogging him thoroughly. 'Here you go again, making me love you,' he thought before letting his mind go blank, losing his head and his control, letting it all go.

He woke up the next morning back in Sherlock's bedroom, bed, and arms. 'I'm so fucked...'


	2. 'Try to tell you no, but my body keeps on telling you yes...'

It had been a month since John came back and slept with Sherlock for the second time against his better judgement. A month since John started going out on cases with Sherlock again. And it gave him a real reason to stay away from home for days at a time. Mary wasn't catching onto what John was doing and that was just fine with the doctor until he could end this relationship with the detective.

But it was hard. Every day he was tempted just to slam the lanky brunette against a wall and snog him...among other things. Pressed against a shipping crate and Sherlock's warm body as the consulting detective whispered the plan in his ear, on the ride back to the flat when Sherlock sat so close to him, /at/ the flat when the rush of adrenaline was still flooding through both of them, he wanted to take him. But then /he/ would win and John didn't want that.

However, that didn't stop Sherlock from doing the same. Twice, John had been pinned and snogged in the flat after a case. Once, Sherlock had trapped him in the bedroom and shagged him into the mattress. And countless times John found Sherlock snaking one hand up the doctor's leg. And despite how frustrating it was, John couldn't get enough.

John woke up one morning, still feeling the absolute pleasure of Sherlock's legs wrapped around him from the night previous. But guilt overrode the satisfaction and John sat up and groaned. He'd done it again, dammit.

Swearing internally, John moved to get out of bed when a long and slender-fingered hand wrapped itself around his wrist. "Stay," Sherlock's voice rumbled, sleepy but demanding. "I can't Sherlock," he tried. The detective sat up and pressed against his lover, his grip still on the other's wrist. "Stay," he ordered again, his other hand coming around to slide along John's leg. "No." the blonde said firmly, his body betraying his true feelings. Sherlock grinned and pulled the other back into bed.

"Stay in bed until tonight, John," Sherlock's voice was low and soft, a request this time. He leaned over John, kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips. "Stay, John." he whispered, his lips hovering over the other's. "Please." He kissed him again, a bit more passionately. John groaned in frustration and pulled the detective close. 'Trying to tell you stop, but your lips have got me so out of breath,' John thought.

He pulled away. "One more time, Sherlock. Last time," he promised before pressing against Sherlock's lean musculature and kissing his jaw. He let his lips trail downward, across his chest, down his stomach, and back. The detective writhed and gasped and bit his lip. "John," he whispered.

######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### 

John rubbed tired eyes as he exited the cab. One in the morning. He'd gotten home at one in the morning. None of the lights in the flat were on, so Mary must be asleep, none the wiser as to what had just occurred. But when he entered the flat, he grew worried that Mary might suspect what was going on. One light, from the bedroom upstairs, was glowing dimly through the door.

Bracing himself, John headed up the stairs and stopped at the door for a moment before entering with a tired smile. "Evening, Mary," he said with a yawn as the blonde looked up from her book. "Hey, love! What took you so long?" John groaned and stood in front of the closet. "Case. I swear to God, that man can run on no sleep and nicotine patches for days. You know," he said, fitting into his pajamas and slipping into bed next to his fiance. "You didn't have to wait up for me." Mary smiled and the ex-army doctor's heart broke a little.

"Oh, so you think I stayed up this late for you?" She held up her book. "Oh, no. Whenever you're out, I'm in bed with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's 'Narrative of John Smith'. Don't think it's all about you, dear." John laughed and shook his head, kissing his fiance on the cheek. He reached over and clicked off the lamp once they were comfortable. "Good night, Mary." he said sleepily.

"John?" she called, worry tinging her voice. He turned over, ready for the questions. "Yeah, Mary?" She sighed. "Good night. I hope next time you're out on a case, you won't be as late." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I'll try, love," he said softly.

'Damn that detective,' he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### 

Sherlock opened one eye and sat up from his thought on the couch. He reached past his cigarettes and for his phone, another addiction on his mind, though he would never admit it to him. He ran his fingers over the smooth mobile, considering his decision.

'Another case, come tomorrow at 9? SH'

He set the phone down on his stomach and folded his hands beneath his chin again. What if Mary answered instead? He doubted she'd read it as anything other than Sherlock asking John to meet him at nine, but in truth, nine was the time of night that John was first "coerced" into bed with him. And John knew this, so if he read it, he knew what to reply. The phone buzzed on the detective's stomach, sending jolts through his abdomen.

'See you then. JOHN'

Sherlock smiled and laid back down. "He'll always be back," he mused, drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments, please? Every Friday, guys, I'll update. Keep on, my pretties!


	3. 'Throwing things and slamming the door...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of angst, so be warned.

John rolled over on his back with a soft groan, sweat drenched and heart racing. Another night with Sherlock, and the intense guilt that had once plagued him now was just a tug at the back of his mind to call Mary and let her know he was alright and there was nothing to worry about. The blonde stretched contentedly and sighed, looking up at the detective beside him. "So I guess we can call it a night then?" he said with a small smile on his lips.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, the same smile on his own cupid's bow. He held an unlit cigarette between his lips, eyes closed and head resting on the headboard. John sat up and faced the brunette, his gaze wandering over pale skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat briefly. He reached out and removed the fag from the other man's mouth, setting the smoke on the side table and looking at Sherlock.

The brunette raised an eyebrow, but kept his eyes shut. "What is it, John?" he asked, his voice containing boredom and expectancy. The doctor furrowed his brow and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I hope you know this is the last time I stay here, Sherlock." The detective sighed and opened his eyes, their cerulean glow piercing the darkness. "You say that every time you're over." he pointed out.

John sighed. "I know, but I mean it this time." Sherlock smirked and inched towards the blogger. "You say that, too. And yet," His eyes darted from the older man's lips to his eyes again. "You keep coming back." John rolled his eyes and faced away from Sherlock. "I'm serious, dammit. Mary doesn't know, and I'd like to keep it like that. If we keep at this, she's going to find out sooner or later."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance and sat back against the wall again, mumbling something that the doctor heard, but didn't quite get. "Sorry?" he asked, facing the detective again. "I asked why you even stay with her." Sherlock's voice conveyed anger and...hurt? "You're wedding is two months away, and yet you're still coming over here and sleeping with me. Why?"

John glared at him in disbelief. "I stay with her because I love her, Sherlock. Nothing you'd know about, you're 'married to the work' and probably haven't had a real relationship ever! What, you were the outcast in the outcast crowd, having quick fling and one-night stands in uni! And that's all this is. A quick fling. I'm just another notch in your bedpost."

"Is it? Is that what you think you are?" Sherlock's voice was low now, angry and quiet, and his legs were over the opposite side of the bed now. John sneered at him. "That's all you wanted, Sherlock. So that's what you got." The detective stood and pulled on his pajama pants, wrapping his robe around himself and remaining quiet as he did. Once he was finished, he opened the door to the bedroom and gestured to the den. "Your clothes are in the den again. Get dressed." He didn't say anything else.

But John did. "I can't believe you!" he shouted, not caring about Mrs. Hudson sleeping downstairs. He pulled on his pants and trousers. "I can't fucking believe you! You do this whole thing to me, calling me away from my fiance to have a quick shag over and over and over again, night after night, and then turn around and say you- Fuck, Sherlock!" The detective wasn't listening. It was obvious, even to John, who yanked on his shirt and jumper and slammed the door on the way out. He looked up at the window once he'd gotten outside and saw the shadow of the lean detective pace before retreating further into the flat. As soon as he looked away, he hailed a cab, got in it, and sobbed quietly. The tears paraded silently down his face not because Sherlock had said it too late, but because the doctor reciprocated the younger man's feelings. And he was lying to Mary and himself if he said he didn't regret what he'd just done... ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### Sherlock watched John leave in a cab and go home to his soon-to-be-wife. With a shuddering breath, he returned to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. John was right. It had all been a game in the beginning, something for his amusement. He hadn't approved of John being away for so long and he didn't approve of John being engaged, so he made a game, a challenge; see how many times he could get John to cheat on Mary and sleep with him. And that's all it was at first. An experiment. But then they began to talk again, go on cases, solve crimes, share small smiles when they both came to the same conclusion. Then he fell in love with John. Sherlock swept his hand across the kitchen table, feeling a certain kind of pleasure in hearing all of his precious experiments and science equipment shatter and thud on the floor. A bloody experiment. That's all it had been. But then they -no, just he- fell in love. With someone he couldn't have. Picking up an unskewed cup, he hurled it across the room. And all John thought this was was fling, that all John was to him was a conquer, another notch in his bedpost. If only he knew. 'You were never another conquer, John. Never. -SH' And with that, Sherlock lit the cigarette John had taken from his mouth and inhaled deeply. "Never that, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update. I went to a friend's birthday party and the next day had to go and do loads of stuffs and then I was busy and then I was sick, so I didn't have time to post a new chapter, but enough excuses, here it is!!! And thank you so much for the kudos!!! It means a lot!!! Anyway, thanks a bunches and have a great Thanksgiving!!! Keep On!!!


	4. 'Can't do this anymore...'

Mary was in the living room when John came home, sitting on the couch and looking out the window. "Mary?" John called, walking in the door. "John," she said, Her voice was soft, sad, and John's pulse began to quicken. He hung up his coat and jumper, coming over to sit beside his fiance. "Hey, love." He tried to kiss her cheek, but she turned away. "Mary?" She stood up, wrapping her arms around herself, pulling her bed-robe tighter around her. "You've been lying." Her voice was barely a whisper, on the verge of breaking, and John's chest began to ache. "About?" he asked in a similar tone. She didn't respond right away. Instead, she walked over to the counter and poured herself a cup of tea, closing and opening her hand around the glass, keeping her gaze down in the hot drink. "You've been lying about solving cases with Sherlock." John swallowed thickly while Mary continued. "I called the Yard while you were out. Greg said you hadn't been in in a while, and he tried to assure me that you and Sh-Sherlock would often take cases not always pertaining to a serious crime. But somehow...I knew you hadn't been." John's hands began to shake in his lap. "So I followed your taxi, and you went to Baker Street, and...you went in and...came back out a few hours later." She finally looked at him, and her eyes were red and puffy. "You were crying, weren't you?" Mary asked him. John opened his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off. "Why? Why would you do this to me John? Why would you stay with me when our wedding is two months away and you spend more time there then here?" Sherlock's voice echoed in John's head. _Why do you stay with her? You're wedding is two months away, and yet you're still coming over here and sleeping with me..._ She didn't raise her voice. In fact, she sounded almost...resigned. Disappointed, even. "Our wedding was two months away," she said, sitting down on the couch again. Silence filled the room, smothering John, compressing against his chest. "I love you Mary," he managed to breathe out. "Not like you love _him_ ," she pointed out. John opened and closed his mouth. Tears began to sting his eyes and his breathing became heavy. "I-I wanted to tell you. I wanted for it all to end, for us to be a family. But-" Mary placed a hand over his folded ones. He looked up at her, and she was smiling that small, understanding smile. "John, we should get to bed. We'll talk about this in the morning." John shook his head as the blonde got up and set her mug on the counter. "How-how can-" She answered as she went up the stairs. "I _always_ knew. I was just hoping that it wouldn't happen like _this_." John stayed on the couch that night, different scenarios playing out in his head. Sherlock did have feelings for him, but he'd ignored them, broken them, even. Should he tell Sherlock? Should he just marry Mary and put the whole thing behind them? Should he try to? Does he want to? Dawnlight gleamed through the window and the den light drowned it. "John?" Mary called. He sat up and rubbed his face. "Here," Mary held out his jumper and coat, the same smile from last night on her face. Slipping them on silently, John stood and looked at her. "Mary, I'm so sorry," he whispered. Straightening his coat out, she just shook her head and cupped his face. "So am I, John. I'm sorry that I didn't let you go earlier, and I'm sorry that you feel like this." "I love you, Mary," he said. "I love you, too. Which is why I want you to go over there and...be in love." Her voice broke and John held her. "No, no, no." she laughed, pushing him off gently. "Save that for Sherlock. And give him my best. Tell him his secret's safe with me." Confused, ecstatic, and guilty all at the same time, John hailed a cab and text Sherlock, hoping he wasn't too late. ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### Sherlock opened one eye at the sound of his phone vibrating. It was the last number he expected and the only one that made sense. He answered and put the device up to his ear. "You found out," he drawled. "I suspected. Thank you for confirming it." "You're not angry," he pointed out, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. "No, not mad. Just...disappointed." Sherlock remained silent. "You're angry, though." Sherlock didn't say anything. "He loves you, you know. More than I ever knew, more than you ever will. And I swear to God, Sherlock Holmes, if you break his heart out of spite for him storming out, I will hurt you." "He beat you to it, then," he mumbled. "You're the best for him, Ms. Morstan. Not I, and none of the women from his past. You're smarter and more observant." "But I'm not the one he loves." They remained silent for a long time. "Do you love him?" she asked abruptly. He didn't respond. "Don't worry," she said. "You're secret's safe with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, guys!!! A chapter or two to go, and then it'll be finished!!! Any suggestions for what to do next? I got Homestuck or Sherlock in mind for another one. Maybe a crossover of sorts?!?! Anyway, hope you had a great Thanksgiving, and that you enjoyed my latest chapter!!! Keep On!!!


	5. 'Got you stuck on my body like a tattoo...'

John sat in front of 221B for an hour, trying to decide whether or not to enter and apologize. How would he even do that? 'Sorry I broke your heart, but I fancy you now so let's try again'? What the hell? He took to pacing again and bit his thumbnail in nervousness. It was four in the morning, Sherlock was probably asleep. But then again, that man never slept, so he should be awake. More what ifs and dangerous scenarios played out in John's mind as he continued to pace.

Sighing, he sat down on the step again and rubbed his face. About to hail a cab and find a hotel, a hand on his shoulder startled him and he looked up hopefully. "Hello, love," Mrs, Hudson said with her kindly smile and house robe. "Mrs. Hudson," John sighed, turning back to the street. "Come on in, I'll fix you a cuppa." she offered.

 

John sipped his tea slowly and set the cup down on the table. "So what happened to you two?" the old woman asked. John's brow furrowed and Mrs. Hudson smiled. "You two aren't the quietest pair, you know," she said with a cheeky grin. John's face turned a furious red and he looked down into his mug. "Nothing, Mrs. Hudson." The old woman smiled softly. "I heard you argue the other night, so don't tell me 'nothing', John."

So he told her. He told her how everything had happened, how it began, how it ended, what he felt. And she listened with an open mind and a thoughtful heart. Just when he had finished his story, a sad tune played from upstairs and John's heart ached at the sound. Slow and melancholy, filled with sadness and anger. Sherlock was playing the violin again. "He's been doing that all night. 'S why I'm up so early." She laid a hand on John's own, smiling at him and nodding up towards the flat.

With a soft steps and a heavy heart that beat wildly in his chest, the doctor climbed the familiar seventeen steps toward the door. The door was open, and Sherlock's emaciated silhouette swayed with the music flowing from his instrument. John just watched him play, leaning against the doorpost and sighing softly, as not to alert the brunette to his presence. Sherlock played on, pouring out his heart into the song, finishing on a long, low note.

"I know you're there." the detective said quietly. His voice sounded tired and hoarse, and John's heart ached once more for what he'd done. "Listen, Sher-"  
"Mary called. I don't know whether to believe her or not." John nodded and stepped back. "Can I come in?" Sherlock shrugged and sat down on the couch. John sat tentatively next to him and sighed. "Sherlock," The other shook his head. "John, I...You were right. It was all an experiment, a game. At first. But it was never a conquest. It was never... _you_ were never that. I-"

He stopped and sighed. "But you hate me now and I don't want to believe you're here for the reason I was informed of." John looked down at his hands. "Sherlock. I..." He sat and thought for a moment before deciding 'Fuck it.'

"Sherlock, I love you. I have for a while and I thought if I just leave, it would go away and I could move on with Mary. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, and I broke your heart anyway, and I'm so, so sorry. I...I love you, Sherlock."

The detective didn't speak. He didn't move. He just sat there and breathed, and John prayed he hadn't done the wrong thing by coming here and saying this.

######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### #########

Sherlock couldn't breathe. John loved him? After all that? After forcing him into this game and then forcing him out of it? "John," he choked out, beginning to cry again. "I...I lo...love you too, and I never meant to do this to you." He inhaled sharply in surprise as a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips pressed against his own, forgiving and asking for forgiveness without the words. He wrapped his arms around John, kissing him with as much passion as he had before, but with more desire, more want than ever. It was real this time.

He was the first to break the kiss, breathing slowly and smiling. "Are we going to do this?" John asked. Sherlock gave him a devious grin and said, "What do you think?"

######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### ######### #########

'Got you stuck on my body like a tattoo...' John though as he was led into an all too familiar yet brand new room. "Mary says your secret's safe with her," he whispered. Sherlock smiled and dipped his head below John's. "It's no secret anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!!! Thanks so much for reading, it means loads to me!!! And I apologize for the format of the chapters, it confuses me. But thanks anyway!!! Keep On, and see you next time!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first attempt at something resembling a songfic and any comments or critiques are welcome. Thanks, and hope you enjoyed! Kudos are welcome, too!!!


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